


hope

by chocolatemilk2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Forgiveness, Gen, M/M, Prisonfic, warfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemilk2/pseuds/chocolatemilk2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Sebastian left the army, and how he met James Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hope

This is as far as his past can go. This is all he has left.

Sebastian stands at the edge of his flat’s roof and kneads his old army dog tags. The words _involuntary discharge_ repeat in the void inside his head, he remembers its harsh edges and the way his ambition shattered to husks on the floor. The military court martial and the glasses he didn’t actually look through. Phrase _premeditated murder_ and his squad members giving evidence. They couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Colonel Moran never liked Gearson… No, not much friendly fire. He wasn’t violent to superiors, but he often made threats.”

He’d often made _jokes_.

Somehow the possessive violence he showed to the Afghanis bled over. They saw him fight the most. He never backed down. It should have made them respect him, instead it made them wonder.

There’s something not right about you, Moran, they decided. You like it too much. He liked protecting them too much. He loved the endorphins and the cutthroat edge of survival. He couldn’t love murder.

Sebastian screamed at them that it was euthanasia and Gearson was dying and the lawyers argued the wound could have been surmountable. None of them had known the regard in Gearson’s voice. They hadn’t heard the way he begged. The mother emailed him and said _he trusted you_. And Sebastian trusted him enough to know his own feelings. 

I didn’t do it, thought Sebastian. He did. He gave up. He ended it. He wanted to kill himself. Not me.

Sebastian pleaded guilty anyway.

His contract left unfinished, medals revoked, service a broken promise of whispered potential. Seven years of his life burned to nothing. Gearson was shipped back to Sussex and they disallowed him from attending the funeral. An orange crisp.

Prison was nothing like the stifled jail cells he’d visited on duty. Too much give and take, Sebastian gave everyone too much. He slept around more than he should have and did jobs that made him regret. He had to choose. Sometimes it was better to support the murderer even if they were a sick freak because you shared a cell with them and you couldn’t take being revenge raped every day.

The war went by in weeks and months and prison was counted minutes and years. You stopped counting. Became the backstabber. Grew out of taking shit commands from inmates. Stopped giving them slack. Started taking. Because fuck them. Fuck them all.

Then James arrived in a bird on the breeze and he said _I can shave eight years off your sentence if you do one job for me_. Sebastian had done worse for less, and to better. The bomb went off and other criminals died. Other people. Some good ones, but Sebastian had stopped valuing them as more worthy of his love the day they stopped respecting him as a valid member of their society.

There was a reason for everything and James was intriguing because he was brilliant but also because he was powerful. He could do things. Everyone else here had the ambition beaten out of them and Sebastian had long given up on his own dreams before he realized James had a better one. James carved Sebastian new hopes. Of playing rugby. Going to pub and the movies whenever he wanted. Of being able to drive a car again.

Most of all Sebastian craved James’ attention. He wanted to be able to call him Jim. He loved being appreciated for his wit and good marksmanship, not muscles. Jim was so well read and educated. Everyone successful Sebastian knew had renounced him, and here was someone, altruistic and conceited and thrilling all at once. Sebastian had forgotten what it felt like to be inspired.

He can’t forget that moment. When Sebastian walked through the front doors a free man with the paperwork done and no questions asked. He’d imagined so long finally escaping, of being bashed and slandered by the other jealous inmates who knew about it but when the time came it was a perfect, ignorant surprise. A free man. His hands shook and he stepped in Jim’s car and they laughed with each other and Sebastian thought _I love you_. The criminal was wearing a classic grey suit and the car was sleek black the sky was pure London white. Sebastian felt happier than he’d ever been in his life and the driver put on the radio and the soft leather seat squished into his bones.

Sebastian smiles now, and the dog tags glint in the soft light. He remembers the people he saved and the ones that couldn't be. He climbs down the awning when Jim calls his name. 

He thinks, _the one he didn't need to_ , and, _the one who saved him first._


End file.
